


Hand in Hand

by LittleLynn



Series: Don't Go [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bard can't find Thranduil in the aftermath and starts to freak out, Canonical Character Death, Comforting Each Other, Feels and fluff, M/M, but they're just mentioned in passing, set after the battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 05:25:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3107756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLynn/pseuds/LittleLynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“King Thranduil, have you seen him?” Bard asked frantically to an elf perched on a ruin, helmet in his arms.</p><p>“No?” He replied, clearly confused by his obvious worry – after all, why should a man be so worried about the Elvenking. Bard really didn’t want to analyse that right now. Especially as he didn’t know where Thranduil was.</p><p>He’d seen Thranduil fight, it was a thing of beauty. Bard hadn’t known anyone, even an elf, could be so gracefully deadly on the battlefield, surely no one had managed best the lethal Elvenking. But they had been so outnumbered. He could’ve been surrounded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hand in Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to part two! You can probably read this as stand alone if you want, but I would obviously recommend reading part one first :) 
> 
> The smut will almost certainly return in part three ;) 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

 

 

“Tilda! Sigrid! Bain! Kids!” Bard shouted as he pushed his way through the doors of the great hall in Dale. He could not believe that they had just survived that, if the eagles hadn’t descended on the second orc army, it would’ve been a very different story, regardless of the fact that Thorin had finally gotten his act together.

He knew that if his kids had done as they were told and stayed barricaded inside the great hall, they would be fine as rather miraculously, none of the orcs had managed to get in there. Sigrid would’ve kept Tilda in there, but Bard feared that Bain may have joined the fighting. He was too young, but he had his mother’s heart – she was never one to sit back and let others fight while she sat safe either.

“Kids!” Bard shouted again, louder this time. The great hall was loud and busy with people, so Bard knew that there was no need to panic, it was hard to see or hear people in here at the moment at all, so it wasn’t that surprising that he hadn’t found them yet. But he couldn’t help the creeping worry working its way up him the longer it took him to find his children.

“Da!” Bard swung around and let the relief wash over him as his children launched themselves at him. They were all gripping each other’s clothes in a huge hug, and Tilda had her face buried in his coat.

“We were worried about you. We’d heard no word of you after we came here.” Sigrid scolded at him lightly – although they both knew there was nothing he could’ve done about that. He had had to fight.

“Sorry Darlin’. But I’m back now, I’m fine.”

“Da, I was going to go with Gildis and help her with the wounded.” Bard had known Gildis almost his entire life, she was old now, helped his wife when she was in labour with Sigrid, he knew it hadn’t been her idea that Sigrid could help.

“Are you sure? It won’t be pleasant Sigrid. There will be many who are beyond help.” He’d let her go if she really wanted, it was pretty safe out there now, but he had to make sure she understood what she would be faced with.

“I know that da. But I want to help, I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

“Okay sweetheart. But stay with Gildis, and if it gets too much you come back here. Sigrid nodded and jogged towards the door.

Now that he knew his children were safe, he found himself able to start worrying about someone else.

“Bain, I need you to stay here and look after your sister, okay? If you need to leave the hall then go wait where you stayed last night.” Their temporary residence in Dale was not more than a ruin, but it was the corner they had picked for themselves, it would do.

“Where are you going?” Bain asked.

“I need to find someone.” Bard replied, but he was already heading for the door.

When he exited the hall he almost immediately broke into a run. He hadn’t seen Thranduil since fairly near the beginning of the battle, not even a glimpse, and it’s not like he was hard to spot. He should’ve been able to see him, tall and bright like starlight in a sea of black and red, but he couldn’t.

“King Thranduil, have you seen him?” Bard asked frantically to an elf perched on a ruin, helmet in his arms.

“No?” He replied, clearly confused by his obvious worry – after all, why should a man be so worried about the Elvenking. Bard really didn’t want to analyse that right now. Especially as he didn’t know where Thranduil was.

He’d seen Thranduil fight, it was a thing of beauty. Bard hadn’t known anyone, even an elf, could be so gracefully deadly on the battlefield, surely no one had managed best the lethal Elvenking. But they had been so outnumbered. He could’ve been surrounded.

Bard forced the thoughts down as his stomach started to churn. He wouldn’t think about it. He ran over to a gathering of elves, picking out one that looked slightly more senior as he seemed to be passing out instructions to the others.

“My Lord Bard?” he asked as Bard elbowed his way through the group of elves towards him, Bard didn’t know why he called him ‘lord’ he wasn’t lord over anything, but he had bigger concerns at the moment.

“The king, Thranduil, have you seen him?” He demanded, perhaps a little coarsely as he tried to keep at least some of the anxiety out of his voice. The elf looked at him like he was deciding if he should tell him anything at all.

“Please.” Bard added, he didn’t want to sound desperate, but that was quite difficult as he _was_ growing more and more desperate every minute he didn’t find him. The elf seemed to relent at his earnestness and spoke to him quietly.

“We do not know where king Thranduil is. We have been unable to locate him or the prince.” The elf admitted, Bard could tell that he was concerned for his king and reluctant for this news to spread, Bard felt his stomach dropping as he continued. “We do not know why he would not have returned here if–”

Bard was unwilling to hear what came after that ominous ‘if’. He left the elves at a run to search the rest of the ruins of Dale, trying to contain his increasingly panicked shouts for Thranduil. He’s not sure if the king would approve of someone bellowing his name in such an uncontrolled manner. Right now he didn’t particularly care.

But no matter how hard he shouted there came no reply.

He shouldn’t care so much. They’d spent one night together. That was nothing, especially to a being as ancient as Thranduil. And yet, his heart rate was rising and panic was swelling all the time he didn’t find him. He wasn’t going to analyse it. Especially when it was seeming more and more likely that Thranduil had fallen in battle.

Bard started a mantra in his head; he hasn’t found him but he hasn’t found a body either.

He hasn’t found him but he hasn’t found a body either.

He hasn’t found him but he hasn’t found a body either.

Bard finished his sweep of the ruin at one of the entrances and felt his blunt nails dig into his palm as he tried not to lose it when he saw Thranduil’s mount lying dead on the floor. He rushed over to the giant elk, it had clearly been shot down as it passed into the city.

He couldn’t help the sigh of relief that left him when he couldn’t find Thranduil’s corpse around the animal. But then, Thranduil was so connected to all the pure living things in his realm, and this was no typical mount. Bard knew that this animal was special to him. A traitorous thought passed through his mind; if Thranduil had survived, wouldn’t he either be with his men or his fallen mount?

He hasn’t found him but he hasn’t found a body either.

He repeated to himself stoically forcing away all thoughts of a dead Thranduil. They would not help him at the moment.

No matter how hard he tried, the dread was setting in deeply now. If Thranduil wasn’t dead or dying he surely would have returned by now, Bard could fathom no other reason why he would not have.

He hasn’t found him but he hasn’t found a body either.

Bard ran out on the fields between Erebor and Dale, looking through the fallen. But even the elven foot soldiers stood out from the fallen dwarves and orcs in their fine armour; and Thranduil would have stood out even from them.

He wasn’t there.

Bard forced down the bile that was rising up in his throat and forced his knees to keep holding him up as they threatened to give way beneath him.

He hasn’t found him but he hasn’t found a body either.

He should not care this much. Not after one night. He just shouldn’t. But he _does_.

Bard didn’t want to think about what it meant that he does, because he was worried about what it _doesn’t_ mean, to Thranduil at least.

He might not ever get the chance to properly worry about that, by the way his search was going.

Bard forced his legs to keep carrying him and headed to the only place he had not gone looking, where no one had managed to go looking yet, still trying to deal with the carnage in Dale and on the main battlefield.

As far as Bard was aware, the only ones that had headed this way were a few of Thorin’s company and the eagles. But he was getting desperate, there was nowhere else to look.

Bard knew adrenalin was the only thing stopping him collapsing from exhaustion as he ran up to the ruins atop Ravenhill. He _had_ to find him.

Bard saw the hobbit, he wanted to ask him if he had seen Thranduil up here, but he was sobbing steadily next to a body. It was Thorin.

Next he passed the body of the dwarf he thinks was called Fili, it was difficult to keep track, a couple of the other dwarves were moving his body gently, bringing him over to lay next to Thorin.

As they exited the ruin he found the more dwarves carrying the lifeless body of Kili towards the rest of the dwarves, Tauriel weeping softly as she walked with them. Again Bard wanted to ask her about Thranduil, but it seemed wrong somehow to speak.

Bard felt his blood run cold as headed up into the ruin, he felt like he was in a graveyard of kings, and he still hadn’t found Thranduil.

 

The gasp that left Bard when he saw Thranduil sitting in the ruins almost halfway up was sheer relief. His knees really did buckle then and he had to grab hold of the remains of the wall to steady himself.

Thranduil’s back was to him, but his enhanced hearing should still have heard him coming, as it was, it was only Bard’s gasp that alerted him to his presence.

The Elvenking looked dazed and lost as he turned to Bard, like he wasn’t entirely sure what he was seeing. Bard found the energy to run to the elf, Thranduil tracked him there with his eyes, and Bard thought he saw a look of relief covering his features, but he also wondered if that was wishful thinking.

“You’re hurt.” Bard said, sitting on the old ruin next to Thranduil and ghosting his fingers across the cut on his face.

“What are you doing here?” Thranduil asked, Bard could not place his tone, it was almost lost.

“Looking for you obviously.” Bard dropped his hand on top of the kings, coving it with his. “I was terrified you had been killed.” He admitted, voice barely above a whisper as they locked eyes.

“Oh.” Was all Thranduil returned, voice quiet and confused, with perhaps a little surprise.

Bard tried not to recoil, he knew it would likely be this way. He hadn’t held out any real hope of the ancient Elvenking experiencing the same feelings he was for a simple bargeman. The elf had not been worried about him in the same way he had been for Thranduil. He went to move his hand from Thranduil’s gently, but before he could the elf had turned his palm up and laced their fingers together.

“It has been a long time since anyone worried about me.” Thranduil spoke softly to Bard.

It explained his ‘oh’, if not why he was sat on this ruin motionless for so long, Bard’s heart ached for how lonely the Elvenking sounded. But as he held Bard’s hand and leaned into him slightly, Bard allowed himself to hope beyond hope that maybe, just maybe, it was not all on his side.

“Why didn’t you come back to Dale? You’re men don’t know where you are. I was so worried about you.” Bard asked gently, running his thumb across the back of Thranduil’s smooth hand.

“Far too many of my people died today. I came up here looking for my son, fearing the worse. I found him unharmed, but he does not wish to return home. I told him that his mother loved him. I don’t think I have spoken of her at all in thousands of years. It is a wound I do not like reopened, but I am not sure if I ever told him that before.”

Bard squeezed his hand, it explained why Thranduil looked so lost. An old wound reopened and feeling like he has lost only his son. And Bard knew how deeply Thranduil cared for the elves in his realm, how much he hated watching them get chipped away by war.

Thranduil slumped further into Bard, all of his walls seemed to have crumbled like the ruins around them, the day having taking a serious emotional toll on the Elvenking. Bard unlinked their fingers so that he could put his arm around Thranduil and draw him into his chest, his armour was cold, but his cheek was warm when it rested against Bard’s chest. Thranduil sighed against him and unexpectedly continued speaking.

“But I think that really, the main reason I sat here unmoving and all alone, is because I was scared. I couldn’t face the idea of returning to camp and finding you dead. I do not think I could cope with that, not today.”

Bard heart swelled in his chest, he didn’t know how to respond to the vulnerability and surprising openness in Thranduil’s voice and words. Instead he just held Thranduil against him even tighter, combing his fingers soothingly through his silvery hair, which somehow did not even have a single knot in it. He pretended not to notice the delicate tears that he could feel against his chest, just as a few of his own started to fall.

As he felt Thranduil relax in his arms even more he managed to find the words.

“I did not know what I was going to do if I didn’t find you. Or if you were…” Bard swallowed over the lump in his throat, not wanting to think about that possibility when it had felt almost like a certainty just a few minutes ago. “Apart from my children, I have not felt this way since– well, in a very long time.” Bard confessed, voice barely audible even in the silence of the ruin.

He didn’t know where they went from here. He didn’t even know if the Elvenking in his arms actually wanted it to go anywhere from here. And he didn’t know when or where he would next see him, if he became King of Dale, as was looking likely, they would probably have some diplomatic contact. But that was not what Bard wanted.

He was scared to even think too hard about what it was he wanted.

Bard was unsure of how to broach the topic of when they could see each other again after all of this. He wasn’t sure if he should bring it up at all. Thranduil would let him know if he wanted to see him again, he wasn’t one to shy away from what he wanted.

Bard sat with the Elvenking in his arms, Thranduil seemed to be slowly drifting to sleep in his arms, much like he had the night before; and much like Bard hoped he would for many nights to come. Bard was unsure how much time was passing, it was like they were on their own island, apart somehow from everything going on in the city below them.

“I would very much like you to visit me in my kingdom.” Thranduil murmured sleepily from his position against Bard’s chest.

“Are you sure? Would it not be strange?” Bard enquired, thinking about a simple, scruffy bargeman being invited to the great halls of the Woodland realm, even though he wanted nothing more than to go to him.

“There would be nothing strange about visits from the King of Dale. _Frequent_ visits.” Thranduil answered, his words tugging at Bard’s heart he wanted it so badly. “Unless you do not wish to, of course.” Thranduil added hesitantly.

It was a strange thing to hear the regal Elvenking so vulnerable and uncertain, Bard was sure that it was at least in part due to how exposed and honest he had been being, he felt vulnerable which Bard guessed was not something he was used to. Thranduil went to pull away slightly, Bard immediately swooped in to assure him, taking his beautiful face in his hands, fingers glancing softly over the cut on his cheek.

“Yes, I want that.” He reassured, placing a soft kiss against the elf’s lips. “I want it so much it terrifies me.”

They kissed slow and soft for some time, neither of them having the energy or inclination to take it any further, content to find comfort in each other’s caresses.

Bard fell asleep with his back against the ruins of a wall and Thranduil curled up against his chest, having slipped off his silver-white breastplate to be more comfortable some time ago.

Eventually they were woken when Thranduil’s soldiers finally located their king, Bard had no idea how long they had slept for.

“My lord?” Spoke a voice, set quiet so as not to startle them from their sleep, but rather wake them from it slowly.

“Mmm.” Came Thranduil’s reply as he shifted against Bard’s chest, waking up.

“Would you be able to return to the camp? We will have a bath drawn for you, and then there are some matters with the dwarves and men that will need attending to.” The elf asked tentatively, clearly unsure exactly how to act in this situation.

To be fair, Bard thought, it was probably the first time they had ever found their king cuddled up in a ruin with a mortal bargeman after a battle. Nor quite so relaxed and soft in his movements and words. In the scheme of things Bard though the elf was doing quite well.

“Yes. I think we would like a bath.” Thranduil answered, smirking up at Bard who couldn’t help the wink he sent back in return at the implication of them bathing together.

Once again much to the elf’s credit he only looked surprised by his king’s words for a second, before nodding elegantly and heading back down to Dale with the other elves, presumably to draw them that bath.

Thranduil offered him a hand as he went to stand up for the first time in what must have been hours.

 

He didn’t let go until they were settling into their warm bath.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! And stay tuned for part 3!
> 
> As usual I am open to prompts either for this series or another story (for a disgusting number of ships as well) either on tumblr, the comments, or email me at littlelynnprompts@hotmail.com 
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://obithefabulous.tumblr.com/) which is basically becoming a worship Thranduil blog - OH WELL WHAT A SHAME

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Elvenking](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3137567) by [tamarieladoness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamarieladoness/pseuds/tamarieladoness)




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